


for as long as it lasts

by Saraste



Category: Dracula - Bram Stoker
Genre: 30 Days of June Fic, F/F, Femslash, First Person Narration, Gardens, Possessiveness, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 16:25:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7275418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mina loves Lucy, Lucy loves Mina, they have a garden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	for as long as it lasts

**Author's Note:**

> 22/30. Unbeta'd. I can't write Mina but in first person.

In the summer, I always find myself missing sunlight. Although she  _ can _ go out in the sun, Lucy often does not, as she tells me that the light hurts her eyes. I dare not ask about her skin, which sometimes seems to be so very red after she has been out in the garden for an extended period of time, indulging me. I always offer her our special kiss, which seems to revive her, as much as can be hoped in her condition. And I, I cannot deny that I enjoy it immensely, giving her what she needs, for it  _ is  _ an equal exchange, for she makes my body shiver in pleasure and crash over to bliss. It is even sweeter than what we do in th privacy of our bedchamber. 

 

But the night's are our time, the fragrance of the night-blooming flowers and the lingering evening sweetness of those which bloom during the day. We have a special spot just for the two of us, where we like to spend our summer eves and nights. Well, all our spots are just for the two of us, as we live in secrecy. I feel like I am forever looking over my shoulder for those men whom we once called friends. And even when poor Jonathan suffered so at the hands of those horrid women, I'm sure that he would wish for me to be happy. For Lucy isn't like them. She isn't. 

 

_ Isn't.  _

 

If she were, would she be here, beside me, curled against my side like a kitten, as far removed from those horrors in  _ his  _ castle, as could be? All sweetness and pretty words for me, as all my sweetness and pretty words are hers.

 

‘I love these late nights with you,’ she murmurs now, breath tickling at my neck, making me shiver. 

 

‘Do you really mean it?’ I ask, for she has to,  _ has to.  _

 

_ ‘Yes.  _ As I love you.’

 

Our garden lives and breathes around us, a little piece of home, English flowers and Breton stonework. Lucy is silent beside me, her cheek cold against my neck. I am content. Even when I know this peace can not last. Yet I will hold tight to this peace, as long as it will last. 

 

_ For Lucy is MINE. _


End file.
